All You Ever Had To Do
by Vyvyan Quill
Summary: This fic spans from 2006 to 2012, and is about Noel and Julian, but isn't a pairing that's for another fic . It's kinda sad.


The room is spinning the room is spinning the room is spinning oh dear god.

Noel sits down on the ground, right where he is standing. People are laughing all around, probably at him. He rubs his forehead hard.

Somebody rubs his hair. He looks up. A girl with lightning-colored hair is grinning at him. "You awright, love?" she's shrieking at him. Her teeth are stretching out of her mouth at Noel. He gives her what he means to be his shy-sexy smile, though it's hard to tell how it comes out. Then he holds his hand out and what must be seventy five hands reach to drag him to his feet.

He looks around the room. Everyone is smiling, at him or each other or just smiling. He knows lots of people here. From other parties and other people. They're just the sort of people he is meant to be around. Just the sort of people he would be friends with. They joke with him and he laughs and he jokes back and they laugh and it's all great fun.

But the fun isn't fun, it's just noise and the noise is too loud and the loudness is too much. Everyone wants Noel to pay attention to them because he's usually so good at giving attention. Somebody's asking if he has any tattoos. Noel can't breathe. His world is collapsing down around him. These people would crush him if he gave them half a chance. He has to get away.

He stumbles out of his mate's little flat (though he can't remember which mate it is this time) and wiggles his phone free of the tight pants pocket. Julian is the third down on the list of recently made calls and he pokes the name and puts the phone up to his ear.

Noel listens as the phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Four times. The line picks up. There are a few seconds of fumbling, then Julian's muffled voice. "Hello?"

"Ju, it's Noel."

"I know."

Noel's face weighs a million tons. It is dripping onto the floor. His lips are frozen in place and it is a good thing he is leaning on the rail of the balcony or he might otherwise just disappear into the patterns of the carpet fibers under his heels. He is trying to telepathically project to Julian what he is feeling.

"Noel, are you there?"

"Yeh," Noel forces himself to say.

"What're you callin' for at this hour? I don't get any sleep as it is with the twins. What is it?"

Noel doesn't know what to say so he makes something up. He's impressed by how peppy and clear his own voice sounds. "Julian, I'm at this party and it's absolutely _brilliant_. You should come out, just for a while. It'd be good for you! You ain't been out with me in months."

Julian sighs. "I'm just so tired from the show. How are you not?"

"'Cos I'm young and spry and you're just a geezer."

"Honestly, though. It's not gonna happen. When has it ever?"

Noel laughs. "Yeah, that's true."

"Listen, I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"Oh, come on, Ju!"

"Byyyyyyyye, Noel."

The phone clicks softly and Noel's arm goes limp and falls away from his face. The phone dangles loosely from his fingers out into the empty space past the lit balcony. He turns his hand to the left and the phone tilts to the left. He tilts it a little further and the phone spirals out from Noel's hand and disappears into the dark.

Noel doesn't remember where he put his shoes. Hopefully, if Dee or Mike don't have them, they'll be found by someone who knows him. Everyone who knows Noel knows Noel's shoes. That way he might have a chance at getting them back. But even if he doesn't get them back, he can't find it in himself to be concerned. It does concern him a bit that he's not concerned, though.

He was going to do that NME interview. But instead he is walking down the street. His tiny, shrivelled feet slap the pavement. His feet have little tufts of wiry black hair on the tops, and are flourescent pale from constantly being stashed away in much more attractive casing.

The pavement is warm though the air is cold and clammy like London should properly be. Tiny grains of rock stick to his toes, hitching a ride.

Dee and Mike are yelling. They're saying, it's raining, you'll catch cold, come back here. Noel had not noticed the rain. But once you notice something like that you can't ignore it again.

That NME guy is standing with the rest of them, watching. Taking notes. Since Noel had not done the interview, the guy would need something to write an article about. This would be it. Noel knew it. Everyone would know him like this.

At least he did the shoot. Put his game face on alright. Julian could tell the difference but nobody else could. Julian can always tell.

He'd asked when the last time Noel had slept had been. When Noel told him, Julian had scoffed. Not even a nod of understanding. Just a scoff and a, "Yeah, 'bout that for me, too." But he says it in a way that tells Noel he's making the distinction between partying and having children. In a way that made Noel _feel _like a child. And then he'd walked away, leaving Noel feeling bleary headed and empty.

During the shoot, Noel touched Julian and Julian did not touch back. It was staged and it was showy. It was artificial. It wasn't them anymore, but what it was was unclear.

He didn't know where he was going. He didn't even really know where he was. The cars on the road barreled so close to his feet he wondered why none of them didn't just veer over a tiny bit and finish things off already.

The rain is matting Noel's hair down. He knows it is ruining the feathers on this dress. He knows it is dribbling eye makeup down his bulgy cheeks and lumpy nose. He hears Dee yell for him to come back and Noel glances back with a, "Fuck you!" and sees that Julian is not there. Probably talking to Julia. Or leaving already. Without Noel.

Thinking about Julian is a bad idea. He tries to think about the slick and grainy feel of the pavement, tries to think of the strangely lovely feel of the dress's fabric sliding against his thighs, but now all he can see is Julian's sleepy eyes not meeting Noel's and all he can hear is Julian's scoff at Noel's exhaustion. Disapproval. Contempt. The thought makes Noel's head feel wobbly. Or maybe that's his legs.

From the corner of his eye, Noel spots the street curb. He angles toward the inviting ledge. As he crash-lands onto the curb, his body feels like it's made entirely of elbows and knees. He is big and awkward and clumsy like a puppy, but now he's more like a puppy who's just shit on the rug and suddenly nobody thinks he's quite so cute anymore.

And now the sobs are coming in waves, shaking his empty body roughly. The pain pushes hard against the border his skin creates, threatening any second to burst out and finally end him. He drags his palms weakly at his wet face but no matter how many times he wipes, he keeps coming away with eye shadow and more eye shadow. He is making stupid, stupid noises he can hardly identify as his own.

Mike is sitting with him now. His small arm is across Noel's shoulder. "C'mon, Noel, let's get you home, yeah?"

Noel stares at the sheer green fabric barely covering his kneecaps.

"Don't worry 'bout the NME thing," Mike continues, "they're wankers anyway. Right? You said so yourself."

"Fuck NME," Noel growls out, the "F" sputtering out from the wetness between his lips.

"Exactly. So let's go. You're not well."

Mike keeps talking, going on about how nobody is upset with Noel, how everything's alright. But Noel doesn't listen. Noel is looking at his shrunken little feet and thinking, _Julian. Julian. Where are you? Julian. Where are you? Julian. Julian. Julian._

Face paint is wonderful for the first hour. Then it starts to constrict. It starts to harden and it starts to peel and flake. It crumbles. There are tiny cracks where Noel's skin crinkles for smiles and grimaces. He should wash it off but he has not.

He watches his face in the mirror silently. His eyes peek out from the color. His face changes over and over with the paint but his eyes stay the same. They're the only thing he can't cover up. His eyes show who he really is, no matter how much he tries to take control. Control like Julian has. His eyes keep squinty and small and incomprehensible. Noel's are big and vulnerable. They broadcast his thoughts to the world. There's nowhere Noel can hide except right out in the open. If he is loud enough nobody notices him. The sound drowns out and nobody suspects a thing.

The last scene has been taped. Production is already underway. Soon it will air. Soon after that, Noel will start working on season two. They're still barreling ahead and everyone is so supportive and so excited and so into everything. And somehow nobody's noticed Noel doesn't know what the hell he's doing. Somehow he's fooled them all.

Noel and Julian had tea last week. Noel had tried to get an opinion out of Julian on the preliminary stills and a script of the show. Julian just gave that weird, tight-lipped expression he always uses when he has something to say but won't say it. Noel had put his hand on Julian's and Julian had politely slipped his hand away.

Just before they finished up, Julian asked, "You doin' alright, Noel?" Looked him in the eye and everything as he asked. And Noel had acted like Julian was being silly. Laughed and said he's doing better than ever. Watched for the hurt in Julian's eye and could only find relief.

"I'm glad for you," Julian said. And then he'd given a smile with more creases than Noel remembered being there before. They walked out together and they did not hug. Julian clapped his hand on Noel's shoulder and gave him a nod. As he left, he lit up a cigarette and Noel watched him go. He didn't look back.

Noel is still staring into the mirror. He drags a forefinger over his cheekbone hard, and the yellow paint rolls off into tiny colored slugs.

Lliana isn't home. She won't be for two more days. The apartment screams at Noel with silence. He has a canister of pills in his right hand. He has a fifth of vodka in his left hand. He has been staring at the pair of them for a while.

There is a knock at the door. Noel's brow furrows, but he lifts himself off the floor and answers it. He stashes the pills and alcohol behind the couch.

Julian looms awkwardly in the doorframe. When he looks up there is a hint of embarrassment in his small shrimpy eyes, but he smiles, genuinely.

"Alright, Noel," Julian mumbles.

Noel's chest swells and before he knows it, he is collapsing into Julian helplessly.

"Woah there," Julian murmurs into Noel's hair. He hesitates at first, then relents and takes Noel into his arms. Noel grips Julian's middle and lets his sobs roll out like thunder into his friend's chest.

Gently, Julian maneuvers Noel just inside the door and closes it behind them, then allows Noel to drag them both down onto the floor in front of it. Julian leans against the door and swallows Noel up into his long arms and Noel drowns in the moment for an eternity.

When he's finally got it out of his system, he stays there snuffling for a long time. Julian never makes a move away. He holds on tight like Noel might fall to pieces if he lets go. Noel is holding on just as tight.

Eventually, Noel is able to speak. Though it's little more than a whisper, he says, "Julian. I need help."

Julian gives Noel a small squeeze. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need, we'll get through this."

Noel manages a nod, then slips his head further down into Julian's embrace. They remain there for a few seconds of silence.

Then Julian speaks again. "All you ever need to do is ask. You know that, don't you? That's all you've ever needed to do."

Noel starts crying again, but he's also laughing. Noel is filled with a strange mixture of an aching, stabbing longing alongside a strange and silly ecstasy. The feeling gurgles out of him shaking him between Julian's arms with little giggle-sobs.

Julian strokes Noel's hair and murmurs, "I'm here. I'm here. I'm here," because somehow he knows that's exactly what Noel needs.

Noel thinks about how nice it would be to stay that way forever.


End file.
